


Without

by Nocturnal



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnal/pseuds/Nocturnal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya commits suicide by jumping from a building right before Shizuo's eyes. Mostly Shizuo-centric story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The moon was a cold white sliver against an empty sky. A crippling sense of déjà-vu turned Shizuo into a witness of this play, grounding him to the spot so that he could only watch as events unfolded with the irrevocable toll of the past. Izaya was the star, uncontested in every way, his soliloquy weaving clues that were both obscure and all too clear. Shizuo repeated lines that were hollow and insignificant because they had no power to recant destruction. Or to counter gravity. Izaya fell and fell. Into the darkness smeared with neon blurs. An endless plunge. As he plummeted through the air, Izaya smiled.

And it was this smile, unreadable as a cipher, that haunted Shizuo and presently yanked him from uneasy dreams. He jolted awake to his gloomy apartment. A thin sheen of icy sweat adhered to his skin despite the oppressive off seasonal heat. Shizuo wiped his brow and took a few deep breaths, willing himself to transition from the nightmare world to reality. Yet even as his heartbeat receded into silence and the here and now reasserted itself, the fact remained that Orihara Izaya was no more.

It was with shaky fingers that Shizuo lit a cigarette. The brief flame cast an orange glow that relapsed into shadow almost immediately. Shizuo preferred it that way. Outside it was still thick night punctuated with a million city lights. He turned his back to the window and considered investing in curtains. Shizuo kicked off his covers and paced up and down to clear off his head. Ash fell to the floor and went unnoticed.

It had been a week since Izaya died. Seven days since Izaya had decided to take a dive from a skyscraper right before Shizuo's eyes. Since then there had been no peace of mind for Shizuo. His sleep was troubled by the exact same scene that reeled out the exact same lines and images. Every morning he met a more haggard reflection in the morning.  
Shizuo poured a glass of whiskey and drank it as one would a shot. Smoke filled the dim room. He was living on nicotine and alcohol. Brimming ashtrays littered the floor, Shizuo had not bothered to clean them. He dragged himself to the shower, standing under the hot water while his body refused to warm. The deadly cold wind high places had crawled into his bones. He was too restless to stay indoors.

The streets were still abuzz with rumors. Shizuo caught snippets of conversations in these aimless wandering strolls that were part of his routine yet did little to appease him. If anything, they added to the dark feeling of pressure that weighted upon him. In corners wannabe punks snickered that Izaya was dead, under garish signs small crowds whispered that Izaya was dead, someone had sprayed in jittery orange letters that Izaya was dead.

In life Izaya had indeed been the bane of Shizuo's existence. They were entangled in a friction ridden power struggle. Shizuo was almost superstitious about this aversion. In death Izaya had become Ikebukuro and by proxy Tokyo. Shizuo kept catching flitting bits of fur fringe from the corner of his eyes. Izaya might be dead but his spirit was very much alive. Shizuo felt that he was being played from the grave, that he was more one of Izaya's many pawns than ever.

He reached the black oily shores of the river Edo as dawn was beginning to split the sky. For all the latent and disquieting presence that Izaya cast there remained a gulf of emptiness. Shizuo removed the very familiar switchblade from a pocket and held it to the budding light. He wondered if part of this sinking of his spirits resulted from the fact that he would never get a chance of killing Izaya. There was surely more to it but Shizuo was not the contemplative kind. Any attempt a deep self-analysis left him tired and frustrated.

Shizuo pulled back his arm, he was going to sever the pending ties between himself and the dead man. If he could throw the blade straight into the lulling waters of the river then he would free once and for all. A weak sunray hit the metal and Izaya's smiling eyes flashed at him. Shizuo put the knife away. It was at this point that he began to wonder whether he was losing his mind. By the time morning was fully blown Shizuo was still staring blankly at nothing. He wished it was not so dreadfully cold.

*

"I don't know if I should give you my condolences or congratulate you."

The bar was on a lull and Shizuo was too occupied polishing glasses that did not need polishing to even notice when Shinra sat right in front of him. It was the voice that alerted him to the fact.

"What will you have?"

"Glass of water. I just came here to chat."

Shizuo narrowed his eyes. The bar was always semi-dim but somehow Shinra's glasses sent off an ominous glow.

"Then go 'chat' somewhere else. This is a bar."

"Orange juice, then."

Shizuo took some perverse satisfaction in squashing the oranges and shredding them on the blender. Shinra watched him intently and did not jump when a glass was unceremoniously placed on the counter with a bang.

"Shizuo-kun, you don't look too good if you don't mind me saying so. Have you been eating properly? Getting enough sleep? How about your daily dose of vitamins-"

"I'm fine. Stop acting like my mother."

Grayish circles were heavily penciled under his eyes and not even the glasses covered them completely.

"Well, I am a doctor so I have a duty to watch out for people's health."

"Whatever."

Shizuo resumed his polishing. The ceiling to floor shelves of bottles distorted his reflection and made him look greenish and ill. He wished there more costumers so that he could use work as a distraction. Over the past three days he had done the total inventory of the drinks twice for the sake of blanking out his mind with dull tasks. He worked slowly with figures and repeated the whole thing for no good reason. But even this drive for activity was not healthy. Upon redoing the inventory for the third time he  
tampered with it in order to steal the whiskey that kept him going. Bad habits creeping in all over again.

"So he really killed himself. Never thought that would happen. Word has it that it was not suicide. That someone pushed Izaya. With so many enemies-"

"No one pushed him."

Shizuo had almost forgotten that Shinra was here. For a horrifying second he saw Izaya falling again.

"So you do know something about it."

Shinra sampled the juice and revolved the straw around.

"Here's your bill."

A not too subtle way of telling Shinra to go away.

"You two go back a long way, I believe. How're you handling it?"

"I'm not friends with Izaya. He's a lowlife. He's the ultimate lowlife, even."

"You mean 'was.'"

Somewhere at the back of his head a throbbing pain was spreading. Shizuo was not ready to switch to the past tense. Not when Izaya infused his every waking moment and most of his sleeping ones.

"If you're done-"

Shinra tossed some money on the counter then dug into his lab coat to produce a few cases of pills and scribbling on a notepad.

"Keep the change. And let me prescribe you something. Just a vitamin supplement, nothing illegal or shady at all."

"I'm fine."

If not for his migraine and the oppressive burden crushing his chest whenever memory illuminated what he would rather remained in absolute obscurity.

"How about some sleeping pills? Lack of sleep is more dangerous than what you'd think. It may even cause hallucinations."

Shizuo glanced at the pill case.

"I suppose I could give those a go."

"Oh, Shizuo-kun, one more thing. It's unadvisable to mix these with alcohol."

"Not interested, then."

"I'll leave them with you anyway. Just in case."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Shizuo was drifting away, the lure of windswept rooftops pulling him into a cycle of anguish. The distant piano tucked at a corner of the bar only echoed Izaya's final words and carried them with sharp clarity.

"My treat. Why do you think he did it?"

Shinra's boyish curiosity went unheeded.

"I don't know and I don't care. Go ask his net pals, I bet he told them all about it. He might have blogged it, too. Izaya was always seriously fucked up."

"It seems that he wasn't very honest online."

"No surprises there. Let me guess, he pretended to be a woman and trolled everyone."

Izaya's identity was a complicated thing made of twists and turns that he projected according to unpredictable whims. For all claims of normality Izaya was a master at craftily managing his insanity for his own purposes.

"You really knew him."

Shinra went on but Shizuo was not at all listening. When he interrupted it was to mutter to himself and to quote the dead,

"I don't think I knew him at all. After all there was never much in terms of communication between us."

*

Shizuo did not know how he ended up in front of Izaya's apartment. Perhaps it had something to do with Shinra's conversation, perhaps it was because he half expected to find Izaya smiling on the other side of the door. Whatever reason it was, Shizuo could not precisely recall walking all the way to Shinjuku yet here he was. He hardly hesitated before climbing the emergency stairwell and forcing the backdoor open.

Dark silence reigned undisturbed. Shizuo held his breath as he tiptoed about the living room. He did not want to turn on the light but standing in darkness formerly inhabited by Izaya gave him the most uncomfortable feeling. Almost as if there was a cold breath whispering unintelligible words into his ear. Shizuo did turn on the light and looked around. Nothing seemed to have been moved or changed in Izaya's now obsolete living quarters. Shizuo had been here before but at the time he paid no attention to his surroundings. He was presently scanning them with disquieting interest.

Several book shelves spanned the width of a wall. Shizuo picked up a tome and random. Big words jumped at him from thickly packed pages. There were encyclopedias, collections of anthropology books, programming manuals, mythology compendiums, books on astrophysics and other fat books that Shizuo could not even begin to comprehend. He frowned at complicated diagrams and charts. Izaya was highly intelligent but Shizuo had never seen him studying not even when he was still a student. Shizuo tried to imagine Izaya quietly poring over all this wisdom and found it impossible to picture.

Further inspection of the room showed that it was bare of any personal items. Shizuo moved to what proved to be the one bedroom. Half of it had been converted into a small chamber where computer monitors took up most of the available space, the rest being occupied by cables, printers, laptops and CPU units in several degrees of deconstruction. Shizuo was hardly surprised to find surveillance camera footage displaying the environs of the building and its accesses from several angles on a cluster of screens. He shivered, though. Izaya had surely passed many an hour here, sorting through his many sources and pulling strings.

Shizuo had never truly understood just how it was that Izaya dealt with information but he knew that in his hands anything could be turned against you. Having suffered the brunt of Izaya's insidious blackmail Shizuo recoiled in disgust at tactics that he suspected were way over his head. Above all that was what angered him the most. Shizuo was reluctant to stay here any longer. He knew that this was Izaya's inner sanctuary where he had plotted, conspired and in a word been Orihara Izaya.

He moved to the bedroom proper. It was for the most part nondescript except for the thick glass on the window that Shizuo suspected was bulletproof. He wondered how many people Izaya had taken to this bed and realized right away that he taken none whatsoever. For all his oddball flamboyance Izaya guarded his privacy to the point that he became a living enigma. And such a creature would not invite anyone into his territory, he operated better infiltrating that of others. Whatever Izaya's sexual exploits might be they were carried out somewhere else. Shizuo shook his head to banish these considerations from his mind.

It was in that spirit of stepping back from certain implications that Shizuo opted to do something as neutral as opening a closet. And suddenly there was a lump on his throat as he saw a whole row of similar jackets, all of them black and lined with white fluffy fur. For the first time in since this whole ordeal had started, Shizuo felt undiluted sadness. He removed one of the jackets from the rack and turned it over. It was so small and still it was a bit too large for its owner who liked to wear it loosely. Only now did Shizuo notice just how fragile Izaya was as far as physical strength went. It was an overdue realization that somehow bothered him.

"You and your stupid jackets. Figures you'd have a million of them."

He closed the closet with a bang that startled him. Talking to Izaya was nothing short of insane and Shizuo smoked a cigarette to calm down. It did not quite work. A waft of apple-scented shampoo drifted from the closet and mixed with the smoke it transported him to their schooldays. Shizuo sat on a nearby chair, the jacket on his lap. For a while he remained without as much as budging. He had always chased down Izaya and in the process he chased him away as well but it was impossible to do that now, he filled too many of Shizuo's thoughts, as it was to ever catching up with him. Come what may Izaya was always just enough steps away for Shizuo's purchase to end in failure. No amount of vending machine throwing could have changed it. And no amount of reaching out would bridge the gap now.

Shizuo was immersed in such dark musings when he spotted a familiar object that could hardly be what it looked to his eyes. He felt vaguely queasy as he picked up what was indeed their yearbook. It occurred to Shizuo that this was the time to simply leave. To leave Izaya's apartment, to flee the city altogether and hide anywhere else. In a place without tall buildings and where he might outrace the lingering unexplainable cold. This was a last chance given to him. But he could feel the slight and too heavy weight of a switchblade on his pocket to know that it was not a valid option. Shizuo closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.

The pages were pristine. Izaya had carefully applied a plastic cover to them. But the content had changed. The picture of their senior highschool year class remained intact but the rest of the book had been converted into a scrapbook of sorts. Shizuo's eyes widened as he turned the page. Under a sakura tree their teenage selves took a break from class. Shizuo was kicking a pebble while Izaya, uniform and perennial jacket on, pointed at him and laughed. In a neat handwriting a commentary had been added, 'Shizu-chan likes to kick things. At times he kicks me too.'

The next page showed them in yukatas next to a candy stall. Izaya wore a sleeveless version of the jacket and chewed on pink cotton candy. Shizuo was engaged in shooting down some targets with a toy rifle. Summer, cicadas humming their wordless litanies, the excitement of simply being alive- all of this returned to him. Underneath it read, 'Most of the times Shizu-chan hits the target. Tonight he missed a few.'

Shizuo could not remember having these pictures taken. He found himself smiling despite himself at the silly bits of information Izaya had seen fit to commit to posterity. These were almost slices of their lives preserved with care. The next page brought back a river and Shizuo sporting bathing shorts beat the water furiously with a stick, sending fishes splashing all over the place. Izaya was missing in this one and Shizuo was slightly disappointed. 'Field trip. Shizu-chan did not catch a single fish. But he did throw my jacket into the water and it was carried by the undertow. It's okay, I have backups.'

"You sure do. Around a million of them."

Somehow it was not eerie to talk to the dead anymore. Perhaps because in his own way Izaya was speaking as well, across time and despite death. In these entries of a semi-diary Izaya came across as sneaky, a bit devious but almost sunny in his upbeat and sarcastic comments. To Shizuo it was rediscovery to see him in such a light. Izaya's looks had hardly changed which gave Shizuo the impression that the past was frighteningly close. Shizuo turned another page and noticed a mood change right away. The caption on the right was of a few droplets of blood, the one in the right was of Izaya alone. Naked, covered with several cuts that crossed his whole body, lying on the floor. The picture had been taken by Izaya himself as could be seen from the skewed angle that revealed branded skin up close. A grey scale turned the moment into cold self-analysis, only Izaya's eyes retained their original red color. The subtitle was too short and laconic to do the situation any justifice: 'Today I lost my virginity. It hurt."

A sudden pang. Shizuo traced the cut lines along the picture as if to feel the pain behind them. He knew that this was an image that would haunt him as long as he lived. It raised so many questions that Shizuo could not approach without being awash in regret. Had Izaya inflected these wounds himself, what led him to capture his vulnerable body on camera, was it defiance that steeled him as he mapped out pain. Shizuo could not tell but he felt Izaya's instinct for lucid analysis of the soul working here.

But above all this there were more simple reasons that justified the hollow ache widening inside Shizuo. If the pictures apart from the opening one were arranged chronologically as seemed to be the case then this had happened in their sophomore high school year. Yet try as it may, Shizuo could not recall any change in Izaya's behavior. Which meant that Izaya had sat on the desk next to him for long hours as classes unrolled, had eaten the same cafeteria food and played around during recess while all along hiding these signs of suffering under his uniform and eternal jacket.

'Today I lost my virginity. It hurt.'

That was all Izaya had deemed worthy to convey. Shizuo could almost taste the near silence that enveloped the few words. Izaya had confided in no one. Here was a hint into the many secrets that gathered around Izaya, twisted ways in which his body was torn even as his mind grew sharper. For Shizuo was aware that beyond catchphrases Izaya did have a special insight into humanity. What he chose to do with was never without a degree of sadism but that too testified to Izaya's dark knowledge.

Shizuo was reluctant to turn the page. He did so at length and with a heavy conscience that he could not fully understand. There was no picture proper waiting his fearful gaze. Instead a black outline of a blade was drawn on white paper. Shizuo did not need to check to know that the silhouette matched the switchblade. There was no caption. Shizuo was not an art buff by any stretch of the imagination but he read power inscribed in great emptiness.

The next two pages contrasted opposites, that much was clear, but in a visceral way that even had Shizuo wincing. A bird flew against a vividly blue sky. Opposite to it a bird struggled with wings completely torn. A white rabbit hopped down a green meadow; a white rabbit cowered in a corner, its eyes gauged out. A fish swimming and then a fish captured in a hook that transversed the scaly body. Shizuo was no animal lover but his skin crawled. He wondered if this was Izaya's blade handiwork in action.

The concluding photos of this series were less graphic but somehow it made Shizuo's stomach turn. A round egg shone through a pastel filter. Tiny punctures inserted on the egg's shells and streams of blood ran from them and stained the white with stark red. There were no comments in any of these horror shots and Shizuo was almost glad for that.  
It was something of a shock to see that he was the main feature of the next page. It was a black and white picture in which Shizuo practiced kendo followed by shot of Shizuo smoking on the school's rooftop. He studied them closely. There was a difference here from the other human-centric photographs, something that Shizuo could most definitely feel but not quite identify. It was when he spotted the caption that he realized what it was. 'I am always watching Shizu-chan. Shizu-chan never sees me.'

These snapshots had been taken without Shizuo knowing. They were stolen bits of time. A chill trickled down Shizuo's spine. The locker room formed the background, Shizuo was in the process of removing a sweaty shirt after practice and on an oval mirror Izaya was reflected, camera covering his eyes. It was impossible for Shizuo to possibly had spotted Izaya from the angle but it was daring of him to get that close and risk exposure. At the same time there was something frightening in this borderline stalking.

None of this prepared him for a photo in which he was passed out after some party and Izaya was right behind him, the biting edge of his blade poised right along Shizuo's throat. So as to delicately avoid drawing blood. Izaya smiled with perplexing serenity. If this intimation into danger was highly disturbing, the next shot floored Shizuo perhaps even more. There was hardly any change but instead of playing a would-be killer Izaya had brought their lips together in a chaste kiss. Shizuo remained fast asleep even though the commentary was right in the stating, 'I think I stole Shizu-chan's first kiss.'

Shizuo rubbed his hands together. He suddenly needed a drink so he reached into a flask that he always had with him nowadays. The swig of whiskey was bitterer than usual. He touched his lips, trying to recapture a feeling he had never truly experienced. Here was the proof that Izaya had been less than sane for a long time. But there was so much more to it. So much more he did not want to consider. It was with apprehension that he turned the page. The image that he encountered was the only one up to this point that he remembered. Rain pattered the windows with solid iron, the school's entrance was seen only in a vertical stripe of light squeezed between the black shadow of the shoe lockers. Shizuo stood in the short visible space talking to someone off the picture. The reason why Shizuo remembered it so well was because he had lost his temper shortly after this hidden shot was taken. Someone, the unseen person that Shizuo no longer at all remembered, had asked him what he thought of Izaya. One thing led to another and he ended up screaming the line that he now read in Izaya's handwriting, 'I fucking hate Izaya. He should just die, jump off a rooftop or something.'

Shizuo put the book down. It took a lot of effort not to vomit. Alcohol churned in his stomach.

"You heard me. Back then."

He closed his eyes before picking it up again. A newspaper article about a suicide, a dive into concrete. Izaya asked, 'Do they ever change their mind in mid-air? And does it even matter?' Shizuo could not help be plagued by the questions. Had Izaya changed his mind as he saw out what Shizuo knew had been a well-planned resolution? And did it even matter? He was still tossing these bleak wonderings about when he came across a page with no images. Instead there was text.

'I love humanity. Emotions drive humans. I do not discriminate between emotions. Hate can be just as strong as love.'

In other circumstances Shizuo would chalk it down to teen angst and leave it at that. But these words were scars. The final picture was surprisingly tame. A broken button, the switchblade still stuck in it. What Izaya had to say about this trivial object its blunt destruction was more revealing than Shizuo expected. The smarting sting of tears blurred his eyes as the read.

'For graduation I wanted to give my button to Shizu-chan. Because of that I destroyed it. I have no need for it if Shizu-chan will not accept it. But I will make him hate me more. Shizuo, keep on hating me. That way you will never forget me.'

Being addressed directly was the last drop. Pressure was crushing him.

"Not working, Izaya. I wish I could- I'd rather go back to hating you."

Shizuo felt absolutely drained. His watch told him that about half an hour had passed but it was a lifetime. He was physically exhausted and emotionally spent. No thought went into tucking the book under his arm and leaving with it. As much as his body yearned for rest he could not sleep here, he feared that his dreams would channel Izaya directly and offer him even more horrible sights than normally.

At least he did not need Shinra's suspicious pills. By the time he dragged himself back home he was more dead than alive. Shizuo emptied the rest of the flask and realized that he had ended up taking the jacket as well. His feelings were too battered for it to feel pathetic and he slept a semi comatose sleep holding the apple scented fur fringed fabric. His last thought before oblivion was that for all it was worth he was no longer cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Shizuo slept late into the morning and around noon the nagging chime of the doorbell waking him up. He stumbled to answer it still half asleep, for once there had been no nightmares plaguing him. A man in a suit smiled professionally on the threshold and Shizuo shielded his eyes from the strong sun that beamed behind the stranger.

"Heiwajima Shizuo-san?"

"That's me. What do you want?"

"I am here on the behalf of Orihara Izaya-san."

Shizuo was suddenly wide awake.

"Come in."

He led the man to the living room and motioned him to sit.

"I am Orihara-san's lawyer and in charge of administering his property."

Shizuo eyed him suspiciously. He had reasons not to trust anyone involved in matters of the law and as far as he knew Izaya was wary of such people himself. Unless he could use them to his advantage, that was.

"What does that have to do with me?"

The man opened a neat leather briefcase and produced a bundle of documents that he pushed on the table.

"I am just getting to that. Orihara-san's will has been read before the required witness and it declared you his sole beneficiary."

"Izaya had a will?"

Shizuo glanced at the thickly packed lettering, the legal jargon was pure gibberish to him.

"Orihara-san ratified a will a month ago. Upon his passing all of his assets are to become the property of Heiwajima Shizuo-san. You can read it all in these papers."  
Shizuo was considerably dumbfounded.

"Why don't you give me the general gist."

"Very well. Orihara-san accumulated a rather large sum in liquid assets comprising 4,469,434,422.97 yen [which is 50 million US dollars] in several national bank accounts. Furthermore, there are also-"

"Stop it right there, four…what?"

"Orihara-san invested wisely. There are also two Swiss accounts that our firm cannot even access, the total amount of those can only guessed and is now yours. All the details are explained in the documents."

Shizuo gaped and then gaped some more. The absurdity of the situation was hitting home.

"How did he make so much money?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss that. All of Orihara-san's real estate values are transferred over to you, including several apartments all over the Tokyo metropolitan area and of course his house in Shinjuku."

"But…why?"

"I was not informed of that. At any rate, Heiwajima-san, you are now an exceedingly wealthy man. If you have any questions or if you'd like further help in managing your new assets then do not hesitate to call our firm."

The man handed him a business card. Shizuo pocketed it mechanically.

"Did Izaya- did Orihara give you any letter or something? For me, that is?"

"He did not. Have a nice day, Heiwajima-san."

Shizuo did not walk him to the door. His mind drew a perfect blank. He could not even begin to comprehend what had just transpired. Shizuo looked around his shabby apartment. Sunlight drew out the dusty corners. He threw the documents into one of these. His late breakfast consisted of half a flask of whiskey and a cigarette.

*

"Shizuo-kun? Still working in this joint? Word has it you're one of the richest men in town now."

Shizuo turned his back to Shinra on purpose. He busied himself polishing a bottle. Never one to master the art of keeping secrets and his mind was not in the right place to pry into how Shinra knew about his unlikely inheritance.

"Can't you go to some other bar? There's plenty of them around."

"Your boss wouldn't approve if he heard you."

"I don't see you spending any cash so I should just kick you out."

"Orange juice, then."

Déjà vu moment. Shizuo had checked his bank account on his way to work and the unprecedented row of zeros had scared him more than anything else. He was used to just getting by and winging it. After a life time of conjuring plans of what to do if he could afford it he found himself without any project to pursue now that he could. Maybe that was Izaya's final joke. Shizuo wasn't laughing. He was not even remotely amused.

"There's vodka in this!"

The doctor spluttered and pushed the glass away with a grimace.

"Gee, alcohol in a bar. What's the world coming to. Now why don't you get out, why have you been pestering me anyway?"

Shinra sighed as if his patience was taxed.

"If you really want to know, Izaya asked me. About a month ago he dropped by and said something about 'looking after Shizu-chan'."

Shizuo looked up with reddish eyes.

"He told you to babysit me after he died?"

"That's not how you put it, it was more asking me to keep an eye on you. What, did you think he was already planning to do it back then?"

Shizuo was not going to answer. After the disagreeable encounter with the lawyer Shizuo found it borderline disgusting to discuss Izaya with anyone. Like the scrapbook with its unforgettable images that so racked his nerves he was loath to share his thoughts about Izaya with anyone. He knew that Izaya had at least vaguely contemplating putting an end to his life since those deceptively peaceful high school days and whenever this knowledge returned to him an oppressive darkness descended. Shizuo found it too painful to even consider that he might have put the idea into Izaya's head, unintentionally or not. As he had done before he forgot that Shinra was even present.

"-looked into his computers yet?"

"Huh?"

"Have you checked out Izaya's computers yet? If he left you everything they should be yours. I bet they stock full of compromising bits of information on people in high places."  
Shizuo had not even considered this. More importantly it might be wise to at least attempt to uncover Shinra's sources.

"How do you even know he left me his stuff?"

"Oh, you know how it goes. The net's abuzz with the rumor that Izaya left a small fortune to his best friend. Online denizens are teeming to find out who that might be. I figured it could only be you and I was right."

Shinra smiled boyishly and adjusted his glasses.

"Best friend?"

This meant that Shinra was also pulling strings but there were so many threads that Shizuo could or had any interest in pursuing. He was aware that he was no match when it came to mind games, Shinra too was beyond his league and the good doctor could not possibly hold a candle to the grand master of manipulation, Orihara Izaya.  
"I don't know if you've noticed- don't get mad but you can be a bit blind to these things but I thought that it was pretty obvious Izaya liked you. In his own Izaya way, that is."

Shizuo slumped on a seat next to Shinra's. It was useless to stay behind the counter.

"Izaya liking me?"

It boggled the mind. But Izaya had broken his uniform button and even stole his first kiss. Perhaps what did boggle the mind was that Shizuo had completely missed the signs.

"Why don't you look into his data? He might have left something for you there."

Shizuo jumped to his feet. He did not listen to anything Shinra had to add and after rudely ushering the clients from the bar, including a protesting Shinra, he closed and nearly ran down the street. A horrid excitement buoyed him up.

He did not get very far, though. Whether it was the cumulating effect of fatigue, lack of sleep and food or something else he did not know but he was suddenly faint and staggering. His knees unbuckled, his legs gave way and as he fainted Shizuo could swear that a bit of fur fringe was flitting right in front his clouding eyes. And then there was only darkness.

*

There were no stars in the city night. Not even at the top of a skyscraper, the sky remained black with stains cast from the frozen sheen of a full moon. Shaky lights glimmered from other towering buildings with burnished golden glimmers.

Cold wind swirled around Shizuo as he stepped into the rooftop.

"Good evening, Shizu-chan. Glad you could make it."

Izaya was silhouetted against the spreading backdrop of Tokyo. He spoke with the typical lilt, his jacket tossed here and there by the icy gusts that did not seem to bother him in the slightly.

"What do you want?"

"I often think about that. 'What does everyone want?' There are millions of people in this city alone and each and every one has their own desires, hopes, fears. Yet something drew them here. Each and every single one of them is so human and at the same time alike and utterly different."

Izaya walked along the narrow ledge, putting one foot in front of the other, arms outstretched. Shizuo glanced at his watch. Almost midnight.

"Spare me your ramblings. I don't really care about your pseudo philosophy."

"You're in luck, then. This is the last time you'll have to listen to them."

Izaya halted and turned to face him. He smiled amidst the invisible threads of winds that swept past him.

"What, you're leaving Ikebukuro?"

"I am leaving Tokyo altogether."

Shizuo tried to light a cigarette but there were whirlwinds riding the air and they snuffed out the weak flame.

"Great. Now go a step further and just leave the country, I could die a happy man then."

"Ah, that is important, isn't it? Dying happy."

Izaya was very quiet. It unnerved Shizuo.

"Whatever. I don't really have the time to waste babbling about random shit. Just don't come back, this city's already have enough scoundrels as it is."

"Finding out what makes people tick has been very interesting. But in the end I never did find out what drives you."

Shizuo turned around and made as if to leave. As usual Izaya found novel ways of stringing him along, summoning him to this most absurd and trademark place was another of his whims. Shizuo did not want to be further entangled in Izaya's smooth tactics.

"I'm out of here. I should've known this would be a waste-"

"Shizu-chan? Please look at me."

Something halted Shizuo on his tracks. Perhaps it was the soft tone of the request and the note of finality he half felt. He complied. Izaya had leapt onto the railing and stood there smiling sadly. Shizuo had to look up to meet his eyes that were calm. Izaya was a shadow on the moon and a delicate white glow illuminated him.

"Oy, what are you doing?"

"I am going more than a step further. There is no point in doing things half-heartedly."

Wind howled around Izaya and flared his hood so that for a split second it formed a halo brimming with silver.

"I have no idea of what you're talking about."

"I know. We never had much in terms of communication between us. Here, take this."

Shizuo could a small object in mid air.

"Your switchblade?"

"Keep it. I won't need it anymore."

Apprehension was overt now. Shizuo shivered from the cold. This was against their unwritten but adamant rules, Izaya would act as Izaya and pull out a thousand complicated plots of crafty insanity but Izaya would never forfeit something as integral to him as his blade.

"I don't want it. You're creeping me out, Izaya."

"I suppose this is my memento. But you'll throw it away, I'm sure. It does not really matter. Goodbye, Shizu-san. You're bound to enjoy this wonderful city so much more without me in it."

Shizuo did not move. Not when Izaya gracefully toppled backwards into the lethal vacuum and not when he slipped out of his field of vision and there was only the blank moon in his stead. Shizuo was still trying to read some meaning into the unwavering smile. And so he could only stare in disbelief and then growing shock. The wind was cold. Too cold. He stood put, unaware that he was actually waiting. Waiting for the impossible. Waiting for Izaya to return.

*

Shizuo snapped wide awake. This time the dream was superimposed on memory. To the point of being undistinguishable.

"Izaya!"

His heart was still beating in his ears. Each time he dreamt this he felt like he had just lost another chance of reaching out a hand at the right moment. He covered his eyes in a weak attempt of hiding from the bout of pain.

"There, there young man. Have some food."

He could not place the voice but the homely scent of freshly made noodles was familiar. Shizuo realized that he was lying on a bench in a park. Next to him sat an old man, his face a map of wrinkles as he smiled and offered him a steaming cup. Shizuo sat up and took it.

"Are you feeling alright now? I found you passed out and was wondering I should take you to the hospital."

Shizuo shook his head.

"No hospital. I'm fine, thanks."

He emptied the whiskey flask. It was bitter fire.

"You should eat some instead of drinking booze."

Shizuo was indeed hungry. Yet he ate slowly. He could not even remember his last real meal. But Izaya had still been alive.

"Thanks. How much do I owe you?"

"No need to pay me, my treat."

Shizuo chewed methodically. It occurred to him that this was his favorite brand of noodles, beef flavor with tiny bits of vegetables, but the tasty broth was without taste to him. But at least it quartered the hollow dizziness in his head while warming his hands. After some hesitation he popped a vitamin pill.

"Young man, drugs are not the answer."

Shizuo smiled wanly.

"Vitamins. They're good for you. Thanks for the food and the help."

He was about to leave when he spotted a sketchbook. Shizuo looked closer and anxiety flared up.

"Did you draw this?"

"Why yes. I'm a street artist, I make a living doing portraits."

Shizuo pointed to the page that arrested his attention.

"This guy right here, with the jacket. When did you draw him? Do you remember him?"

The old man looked needed only to glance at it.

"Why yes, I remember him. Such a nice young man. You could learn a thing or two from him."

Shizuo was back on the bench.

"Tell me all about him. When did you meet him? What did he say? I'm sure he said something, he always says something, he never shuts up for a second and when he does- well, he is still talking- in a way."

"Slow down, young man! I'm no spring chicken, don't go throwing so many questions at me."

"Sorry."

Shizuo wished he had learnt some of Izaya's information extraction procedures.

"This seems to be really important to you, so let me rack my old brains. I was working here in the park when he approached me and asked to draw him. You're right, he was a very talkative fellow. He told me that people were very interesting and asked me what I'd learnt from sketching them. A really nice boy, most of you youngsters don't spend the time of day with us old timers."

"Did he say anything else? Anything at all."

The man rubbed his graying stubble.

"Why yes, now that I think about it. He said that he was in love."

Shizuo started despite himself.

"He did…?"

"'I'm in love with someone that hates me' or something like that. I thought it was really strange, he looked like the kind that girls like. Some high school sweet heart. I don't suppose you know her?"

Shizuo licked his lips. This was too cruel.

"-he doing? Young man, are you listening?"

"Huh, sure. Just spaced out a bit."

"I was asking how he's doing. I'd like to talk him again, such a good model too."

Shizuo's hands shook a bit. He coughed to clear his throat.

"He's passed away."

"How awful! Was it some kind of accident? And so sudden, too."

"Yeah."

"And to think that just last week he was sitting in front of me, so alive! Such a sad thing."

It took Shizuo some time to realize it. The platitudes of grief could not reach his abysmal loss and so he did not immediately see it.  
"Did you say a week? When exactly?"

"Why, a week to this day, I believe. Wednesday."

Shizuo jolted. He was very much afraid.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"I think so…might have been Tuesday but-"

"That can't be. Izaya's been dead for two weeks."

*  
Shizuo could not bring himself to go back to work so he wasted the rest of the day wandering about the city. He ended up buying the portrait. The streets teemed with people, Shizuo focused on these living tides with the intent of understanding some of Izaya's interest in humanity. He could see nothing but faces shut to any perusal of inner reality and soon enough he gave up.

The thing he dared not do was hope. Upon further pressing the elderly artist proved less than reliable being, in a muddle as to what day it was today and overall confused about recent dates. Which left Shizuo too uncertain to draw any conclusion. He was afraid of entertaining hopes especially in the teeth of the harsh reality he had seen and that still played itself over and over in disturbing dreams. Between what he had witnessed – Izaya courting the abyss – and the assertion of an old and somewhat confused old man Shizuo was much more inclined to trust that which his eyes and memory testified to.

Still, his heart fluttered when he turned a corner and nearly bumped into a small crowd of fur fringed jackets loitering about a vending machine. Shizuo had heard about these proclaimed disciples that were nothing but petty criminals. It was about as distasteful as it got and Shizuo was not about to turn a blind eye to it.

"Who are you punks supposed to be?"

In no time they gathered around Shizuo.

"Eh? You don't know about us? We're the Jackets. Orihara Izaya's gang."

Shizuo lit a cigarette. So much for the fabled notion that without Izaya the city would become a better place. He smoked almost meditatively.

"Really, huh. I don't think so."

They waved fists at him angrily. To Shizuo they seemed like nagging flies buzzing about.

"What the fuck do you know? No one pulls shit on us."

Shizuo removed his glasses.

"Izaya doesn't do crowds. Takes more than playing dressing up to match him."

A few muttering voices agitated the gang.

"Hey, isn't that Heiwajima? Shit!"

Shizuo took a step forward. That was all it took, they scrambled hurriedly and were soon gone. Shizuo finished his cigarette. He needed answers and come what may he would seek them. The switchblade made contact as he put his hands in his pockets as if to reassure him.

*

Even though he legally owned the apartment now Shizuo still unlocked it almost stealthily – the keys had been turned over to him – and he felt like he was sneaking in. Izaya's apartment remained untouched and unchanged if not for the thickening layer of dust claiming the corners. Shizuo went immediately to what he saw as Izaya's headquarters, the tiny computer infested cubicle in the bedroom.

He sat on the swivel chair, for a split second he could see Izaya merrily spinning around in his very spot, and turned on what seemed to be the main computer. Shizuo hunched until his face was nearly glued to the monitor and pixeled light bounced from his glasses. He tapped the keyboard impatiently. Never a computer person he suspected that this would be hard work. The machinery hum as circuits flowed back to life made him nervous, it brought into relief the great silence.

Shizuo expected the Windows whatever-version-it-was-at to initiate. Instead the screen remained black and then a tiny Izaya icon, fluffy fringe and an absurdly big scythe in hand, popped out of nowhere. It smiled as it danced from right to left, dragging a box: 'Insert Password!'

Shizuo sighed. He never could make sense of Izaya's sense of humor. The icon sat on a skull, little legs swinging. Now was not the time to crack Izaya's oddball jokes. Shizuo expected password protection but it still depressed him. He had no idea. But since he had to start somewhere he typed, 'I love humanity' only to be greeted with 'Wrong! Chibi Izaya isn't happy now'. The icon shook its head in cartoonish mock sadness. Shizuo tried other variations of the same trademark with no success. Without a doubt this was going to take a long time, assuming it would work at all.

He wondered if this was a dead end anyway. He had no interest whatsoever in the secrets Izaya had weaseled out of important people. It was Shinra's hint that influenced him and today's unexpected glimmer of hope sealed the deal. Shizuo gritted his teeth as if he was about to fight. It was a matter of getting into Izaya's mind. And if he managed that, he might never find his way back. But that was a price he was willing to pay.

Shizuo rubbed the bridge of his nose and frowned at the monitor. There was the possibility of a random password but gut feeling told him otherwise. He was used to trusting his instinct and currently he had nothing left. Shizuo tried the next obvious option, Izaya's birthday. Tiny 2D Izaya shook his head and shrugged. 'Wrong again! You make me so sad.'  
For the next couple of hours Shizuo typed all sorts of combinations of phone numbers, post codes, town names. None satisfied Chibi Izaya who swung the disproportionate scythe around, pulled a vending machine out of nowhere and sat on it drinking juice, juggled bits of sushi that he gobbled right away. Shizuo took a break because he was without clues. It was pushing on midnight when his cell rang and scared him greatly, much to his annoyance.

"Shizuo-kun! I just dropped by the bar but you weren't around. So I was wondering-"

"I'm busy, Shinra. Want something?"

"Where are you? I was thinking we could go out bowling or something."

Shizuo tried 'Dollars'. The icon wrapped itself in black and yellow police tape and wiggled worm-like.

"Can't do. I'm at Izaya's place."

"You mean your new apartment? Since it's yours now."

Shizuo was at a loss but the doctor might help him.

"Izaya's place is Izaya's place. I don't suppose you'd have any idea of what his password might be?"

"Hmm…so you took my advice? Can't say that I know but how about his screen name?"

Shizuo sighed.

"I don't know that either."

A brief silence.

"Ha. Sorry, I really can't say."

Shizuo lit a cigarette and took his eyes from the skating mini Izaya that seemed to think that it was Christmas time.

"Isn't there a way of accessing the stuff in the computer without getting the password?"

"You could get a hacker but word would spread very fast that Izaya's computers are in your possession. Not to mention Izaya was very good, I doubt anyone could hack it."

"Right."

Shizuo was loath to let other people intrude on this matter.

"But you know, Shizuo-kun? If Izaya left you everything then he expects you to figure it out."

"Huh?"

"In other words, you probably know the password already. I doubt it has anything to do with his net persona or his information dealings."

Shizuo glanced at the monitor again where icon was back to eating sushi this time atop a vending machine.

"Nothing comes to mind."

"You guys do go a way back, don't you? Try to remember your high school days."

Shizuo nodded. He was not particular good with phones anymore than he was with computers, especially when each new generation of cells was more confusing than the previous and he often forgot that the person on the other side could not see him which made gestures rather useless.

"'kay, thanks."

He hanged down the phone and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Shizuo was drawing a complete blank. He took a look at the scrapbook, wondering briefly if he would ever be able to open it without wincing, and introduced the captions. There was no result. Chibi Izaya was still not happy. Shizuo tried their high school name. Nothing. Shizuo got up and paced up and down. He felt like having a drink but that would make it even worse. Frustration filled him. At length he opted for a different approach.  
'Heiwajima Shizuo'. 'Sorry, but no.'

Shizuo sighed. He tried variations of his name without of course forgetting 'Shizu-chan' but that was not it as well. Against his better judgment Shizuo was disappointed. And firmly back to square one. Shizuo tried to focus. The answer could be very obvious but clearly not obvious enough. This was a test and Shizuo was doing very poorly. Which, now that he thought about it, was their old pattern at school. Izaya aced every single subject, Shizuo barely made it without flunking. It was exceedingly annoying. Shizuo was remembering the many times in which Izaya had waltzed his way to a perfect score when little Izaya pranced to a locker and mused in comic concentration. Suddenly Shizuo was on his feet, a long slumbering memory stirring bits of light into the present.

Shizuo took a deep breath. Then he introduced Izaya's school locker combination, a number that he knew because Izaya had told it himself and that he could still recall because it was a numerical translation of 'Izaya outruns the Shinkansen.' The screen grew black then suddenly the icon reappeared jumping up and down, did a silly dance and then raced a bullet train. And then Izaya, the real one, was waving at Shizuo through the monitor.

"Correct, Shizu-chan! It took you four hours, thirty minutes and twenty seconds to get it. You still needed some help, though. Which reminds me you can download Chibi Izaya to your cell phone. But on a more serious note, congratulations. If you're seeing this then I must be dead. I always wanted to say that. Unfortunately, or not, it also happens to be the truth."

Shizuo hardly heard the words themselves. It had been so long since he actually heard Izaya's voice apart from dreams that he simply let the familiar mocking lilt to wash over him.

"On my right, which would be your left, are a couple of folders. Click on any of them to dissolve the government, ruin a few majors companies, you name it. Most of Tokyo's secrets at the tips of your fingertips. Literally so."

It was very normal to speak to a video feed, at this point:

"Don't care about that."

"But I bet you don't really care about that. On my left, which would be your right, are a few folders of a personal nature. Now, Shizu-chan, there must be something you want. Namely, you want to know. Welcome to my world. Information is everything.

"Every single person is different but very few are truly unique. Right now, from the almost 7 billion people that inhabit this planet, there is only one who would pick data pertaining to Orihara Izaya over ways in which to rule the world. And that in itself is rather impressive. But don't get too click-eager, you'll have to watch before the folders become available to you. Don't hold it against me. After all, this may very well be the first time I ever have you as a captive audience. It is flattering."

Izaya bowed with a flourish.

"I assume that you have seen the scrapbook by now. How did it make you feel? Surprised? Shocked? Horrified? Disgusted? All of the above? And I'd like to add that no animals were harmed, I researched those pictures."

Facing Izaya's typical upbeat mood directly made it very difficult to conciliate with those disturbing revelations. Izaya seemed to wait for Shizuo to force the connection into being.

"Do you feel sorry for me now, Shizu-chan? 'Poor Izaya-kun. So insane.' You're not a bad guy at heart, I'm sure these thoughts crossed your mind. But you shouldn't pity me. I could have done away with you at any time. Your demise was a phone call away and you'd disappear without any evidence pointing toward me ever surfacing. Because Tokyo is my playground and I do reign supreme in it. You might have vaguely known this already but you have a clearer picture now."

Shizuo was indeed realizing how deep the tendrils of Izaya's influence ran and how widely they were spread.

"But I'd never make that one phone call. If you want to pity me, pity me for that."

Shizuo looked briefly, a knee jerk reaction.

"Of course, you hate me and that's that. But if there is one thing that I have learnt is that emotions can be updated. Old protocols get rewritten. You'd be amazed at how often I've seen people break vows only to make new ones. But my feelings have always been the same as far as you are concerned. Needless to say you would not at all care for what I feel. That, at least, has changed. Otherwise you wouldn't be here seeking answers."

It was eerie the way in which Izaya unraveled him so effortlessly.

"We never had a decent conversation. Not because I had nothing to tell but because you had nothing to ask me. Everyone has a million questions to ask me, people come to be starving for whatever tidbit of information I am willing to grant them. But you never did that."

Once more Shizuo found himself replying to the now serious Izaya on the screen, quoting him again:

"We never had much in terms of communication between us."

"Why do you think that I picked this particular password? Try as I might to think of something we had together to draw from, there was nothing. And yet as you know from the scrapbook I did have many important moments with you. The problem is, they did not exist to you."

The collection of pictures had become a filter through which Shizuo's past was refolded to contain a whole henceforth unknown part of his life by adding complications to it.

"It is an example of how life in general is. All around you there are things in people's minds that you will probably never know and some of these may be about you. What we see is never the whole picture and for each situation there are as many points of view as there are people. Having a grasp on this is what makes me a good information dealer. Gathering data is exciting when people are involved but that turns me into an observer that sees love, jealousies, anger, joy and all that matters from the outside."

Shizuo realized that he quite liked Izaya's voice.

"In observing humans you may ever well cease to be one. I always have a world of fun playing with what I'm sure you'd call my victims and it is ever so interesting to understand them and get under their skin. But when I try to relate to you – it hurts."

Izaya smiled wanly.

"I always watched you but in doing so I was all too aware of my own humanity. And yes, admitting all this is difficult. I'm almost tempted to brush it aside but that defeats the whole point of even leaving you this message. Contrary to popular opinion I am not much of a masochist. Whenever I consider the mismatch between my emotions for you and your lack of emotions for me it becomes painful. It is not only a difference in quality but one of intensity as well. I'm sure that you believe that you hate me with a passion that is not exactly true. If you think about it you only gave chase if you happened to cross paths with me. Despite the grudge you hold against me you never came to me to exact revenge or anything of that sort.

And that is because I occupied no important role in your life. As long as I was not annoying you then you were happy. In fact, if I were to simply disappear you would soon forget your resentment. In a few weeks you would forget the sound of my voice, in a couple of years you'd forget the color of my eyes and eventually I'd become just a past nuisance."

Shizuo shook his head and corrected Izaya even though it was late, everything was far too late:

"Weeks have passed and I recognized it the moment you spoke."

"What we do not see, what we are not aware of, what goes unnoticed does not affect you. Even what you hear about only affects you marginally. Humans are made that way in order to survive emotionally in a world full of suffering. If one was to personally feel every disaster that reaches one then one would soon collapse. Especially in this new age of information where so many rumors of horrors circulate twenty four seven.

But what we see with our very eyes, Shizu-chan, what we witness ourselves marks us. It becomes part of our memory and thus part of what we are. That is why if I were to jump off a skyscraper right in front of you I am almost sure that it would stay with you for as long as you draw breath."

Shizuo touched the monitor lightly, almost sketching a caress across time. Pixels instead of skin. Lacking the warmth of true contact. He tried to make up for the emptiness by directly addressing him yet again.

"So you did it to haunt me? Congrats, it worked."

A kind of cold anguish was stealing into Shizuo.

"Shizu-chan- do you resent me? If you are sitting here and watching this then it must be so, to some extent at least."

"You can say 'resent' but it's not that simple- Izaya."

On the screen Izaya placed a hand on the opposite arm as if he too was cursed with perpetual coldness. Shizuo saw him digging nails into the fabric of the absurdly familiar jacket and lose his Izaya composure by suddenly looking away as if afraid. Almost disarmed.

"You see, Shizu-chan- I really wanted to see if you could feel even the pain I've suffered over you. Don't think of me as this pure hearted person that has loved you for so long and only wanted the best for you- yes, I am telling you that I love you but not in a sweet way."

Shizuo could almost sense the effort it took for Izaya to keep on speaking.

"For me- the person that hurts you is the one you love. I'm selfish at heart and always have been. If I can bring you half of the pain I've felt then that will be my version of reciprocate."

The lump in Shizuo's throat was thick. Smoldering rage, very different from his usual outbursts, mingled with a sense of keen pity. Izaya faced him from the security of inviolable loss and it was not at all fair. It matched the essential injustice of the world.

"Couldn't you try talking to me, Izaya? You can go on about how it wouldn't have worked but you'll never know for sure now! 'Love'? That's a joke that's too cruel even for you. It's not love, it's just plain cruelty."

Shizuo caught himself. Izaya had grown silent, a single tear running down his face. Yet he smiled.

"By now you should have realized that the folders on my left, which would be your right, are empty. Because the dead have no personal information."


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as he heard this Shizuo understood that this message was the sum of all Izaya had seen fit to convey to him. It left much in the dark, overtly casting shadows and sidetracking motivations.

"It is interesting how time can be a matter of perspective. I am about to make a call and set our meeting at the rooftop, to me this is still in the future but to you it is in the past. But as relative as this may be, death is very final. I would rather die by own decision as I am about to. Any other way would be pointless. Which reminds me, thank Shinra for me. He was a great help when the stabbing incident happened. I am not as bad as to be without gratitude. And now, time to give you a call."

Shizuo almost expected his phone to ring. Izaya produced his state of the art cell and dialed a number that Shizuo recognized all too well. He knew that this was a show of sorts, Izaya was the kind to have numbers on speed dial but he wanted Shizuo to see him entering the sequence of numbers.

"Hello, Shizu-chan! It's me, Izaya. Always so cold, tsk. Can you meet me in two hours? You'll see when you get there, I can't go into details over the phone. That building next to the bar. Rooftop. Why? Because it wouldn't work otherwise. I won't waste much of your time, trust me? 'I don't bloody trust you', huh. Oh well, can't really blame you for that. See you in a jiffy."

The phone call ended. Izaya smiled.

"I wonder, how great is the difference between the Shizuo with whom I just spoke and the Shizuo now listening to this. Only you can know that. It belongs to you and you alone. Let that be your strength if you need it."

And this enigmatic advice the screen grew dark and Izaya faded from sight as if he was retreating to his elemental obscurity. For a while Shizuo remained put. He felt very tired and almost numb. An echo of Izaya's words floated dimly in the silence. Suddenly, he jumped off his seat and rushed out. The plot around him was thickly layered with empty solutions, just like those elusive folders, but there was a turn he had yet to quite turn in his attempt of unraveling it.

*

"Shizuo-kun! It's so rare of you to visit! Come in, Celty's not around but I'll fix you some hot chocolate-"

"Cut the bullshit, Shinra."

Shizuo strode into the sparingly furnished living room. Shinra followed him meekly as if this was not his house into which Shizuo had just barged in.

"Take a seat."

"Did you treat Izaya recently?"

"Ah. That."

Shinra sat himself, arms casually folded.

"Well? Did you or not?"

"I suppose it no longer matters now that he's dead but Izaya asked me not to tell you about it."

Shizuo took a step in his direction and towered above him.

"And that is precisely why you're going to tell me. Right now. I'm sick of having stuff hidden from me."

Shinra nodded and adjusted his glasses.

"Sit down, then. I can't talk when you're standing like that."

At length Shizuo obeyed.

"It was about a month ago, Izaya came to my clinic late at night. He was in a pretty bad shape. Nasty cut across the abdomen area, major blood loss. The diagnosis was not very favorable. He refused any anesthetics and was calm as a cucumber as I sewed him up."

"How did that even happen? Izaya is fast on his feet and clever. There's no way he'd let anyone damage him like that."

And yet there was the picture with the thin cuts tattooing his body. Shinra was silent for a while as if picking his words.

"True. But Shizuo-kun, it's not your fault, it's not like you could've possibly have guessed, but he was battered before he was ambushed."

"What do you mean?"

A knot was forming in Shizuo's stomach.

"You know, it was usual for you to chase Izaya until he could hardly walk. He was just too tired to escape. After the treatment was over he told me not to tell you. Something along the lines of, 'I can't die like this. It would be-'"

"-Pointless."

"Why yes. How did you know?"

"I just had a long conversation with Izaya. He says thanks for patching him up that time."

Shinra sat closer to Shizuo who stared at no particular point in an endless distance.

"Shizuo, Izaya is dead. The sooner you come to terms with it-"

"Not to me he isn't."

The clock on the mantelpiece ticked very loudly in the heavy silence that followed. It was Shizuo that interrupted it.

"I don't suppose…you saw the body?"

"Well, no. But I went to the funeral."

Shizuo had skipped that altogether. His was a grief that became deeper with time but it was intimately personal. It was of little avail to seek to dilute it with company of others. And above all funerals did not suit Izaya at all, any more than death did for that matter.

"Body was cremated? No autopsy?"

"It was cremated, cause of death was too evident for an autopsy. Shizuo, what exactly are you implying?"

Shizuo ignored the question altogether. All this time he had been following the twisted turns of a thread that Izaya had left for him and he owe it to himself to see it through to the bitter end.

"I just know that I need to settle it."

With this Shizuo got up and made as if to leave. Shinra followed him.

"Where are you going?"

"Cemetery."

Shinra's eyes grew comically big behind his lenses that added to the effect by magnifying them.

"Shizuo, you can't do that. For one, it's illegal-"

"Says the doctor without a license."

Shinra was far too used to such jabs to let them at all affect them.

"Either way, the body was cremated. Izaya is dead. Haven't you heard all the rumors of people who did see the body?"

"So what? This city is teeming is recent legends that are not rooted in fact. I think part of 'Information is everything' is just that. Convincing people that something is true, it's also part of the game. I don't understand it completely myself but- but that's that."

"Even if you're right what can you hope to accomplish?"

"I'll see when I get there. Test the ashes for DNA or whatever they call it if it comes to that. I just must know."

"That wouldn't work. Cremated remains are void of DNA info, it gets incinerated along with the biological material."

"Doesn't matter. I'm still digging up his grave and if it lands me jail it's not like it would be the first time I end up locked up because of Izaya."

For once Shizuo was very much aware of the irony. Shinra sighed and reached for his coat.

"Honestly, you are so stubborn. If I can't dissuade you and it seems like I can't then I might as well point you to the right place."

"I'm not asking you to."

"I know. But if it'll make you feel better then I don't mind. If this is the only way of convincing you that Izaya is dead then I'll help you."

*

Half an hour later they were crossing the slab strewn landscape of the cemetery. A windy kind of silence rushed in murmurs around them. Shizuo took the lead even though it was Shinra who provided instructions. Flashlights could not contend with the ruling darkness, only the sky was stained with smears of neon from distant skyscrapers.

"This is a bit creepy…"

"Not to me. I've been living with a ghost for far too long."

Shinra had nothing to add to this and so he kept silent until he recognized the surroundings.

"Here, it should be around here somewhere. 'Orihara Izaya', there it is."

A weak beam of light revealed the grave. Shizuo nodded. The cold that pierced his bones did not numb him enough.

"Thanks. You can go now, I'll take it from here."

Shinra hesitated.

"It doesn't feel right just leaving you here alone…"

"I've got to do this alone. Thank you, Shinra."

"I'll wait for you at the gate, then."

Shizuo waited until Shinra's hurried steps faded away completely and the receding figure blended with the dark limits of the distance. Then he took a deep breath, inhaling icy wind into his lungs.

"Here I am, Izaya. Just you and me. Like you always wanted."

Shizuo did not need tools to break through the stone slab. His bare hands sufficed. He pried solid stone open without much of an effort but without being forceful. There was something highly disquieting about this deed, the explicit disrespect it entailed was sobered before crude necessity. One does what one must, Shizuo thought. Oddly enough it occurred to him that Izaya would have understood. And then he had no more time to dally on considerations. He reached into the hole without bothering to illuminate it. Something of the sacred had to remain intact in darkness. This he sensed without quite thinking.

Shizuo touched something soft and produced a tiny doll. A chibi Izaya doll, complete with a lopsided grin and absurdly huge eyes that flashed like bloodied glass under the flashlight. He turned it over, expecting a gimmick, further instructions, something.

"Good evening, Shizu-chan."

The wind was cold and full of whispers but incapable of words. Shizuo did not turn around despite his every instinct.

"I still recognize your voice, you know."

"Ah. Do you now?"

Shizuo did turn around, then. Before him stood Orihara Izaya. Just a few feet removed, a sad smile softened by the weak yellowish light. Shizuo was unable to feel anything other than a sudden inner turbulence.

"Yes. I didn't forget it. Was it all a sick game, Izaya? I should just punch you until you wished you had stayed dead."

Izaya walked to the grave and traced his fingertips over the intricate characters that formed his name.

"A game? No, not at all. Even I could not plan something like this without being genuine about it. Not when I so wanted you to bear witness to everything."

Shizuo called back all that had led him, all the unlikely turns, coincidences, confluences, and wondered if they amounted to fate. The still pictures, impressions of a silent pain nurtured without a word to express it through the years. Izaya's message and its refined cruelty.

"I actually believe you. You'd be pulling your antics by now if it were just one of your stunts."

Izaya nodded. He was without his jacket and in plain dark clothes. Very small against the backdrop of this strange night lit only by strange revelations.

"True. I jumped to die. That was my intention. I did not lie to you."

"Then how come you're here?"

"Apparently I have a guardian fairy. Celty saved me. I have no idea why. Only she knows. I'm sure even Shinra is clueless. As far as I know she also staged my death after I leapt. I do not understand it either."

Izaya shook his head and looked at the empty incense slot. There were no flowers.

"I think that I understand it myself. But I won't tell you. You never ever told me anything, you never talked to me, never in all this time did you bother to actually give me the time of day. 'I'm always watching you', right, but what good does that do if I don't know it? That's a kind of information that you deliberately withheld from me. And that's not bloody fair."

"I know. I have been here most of the time, just-"

"You left to get your portrait done. So much for your cemetery dwelling ways."

Izaya blinked.

"How did you know that?"

"Sheer luck. I found the old man. So you can tell random strangers that your love is 'one-sided' but you can't even tell me about it? That's cowardly of you, Izaya. Terribly cowardly."

"I know that too. May I ask…why you are here?"

"Because you've been waiting for me, that's why. That video of yours, the scrapbook, everything- you've been waiting, haven't you?"

Izaya attempted a smile that was wan.

"You've grown perceptive."

"Thank your ghost for that. By the way, I don't want any of the stuff you left me."

"What do you want, Shizuo? I ask you that once more."

Shizuo pulled out a black jacket trimmed with fur from a backpack he had brought. He placed it on Izaya's shoulders. The reality of it all was brought round to him as he felt that this body was solid. Flesh and body. Not invoked by delusions.

"The first time the question was rigged anyway. What do I want? Lots of things. Right now I want to talk to you. For as long as it takes. Until you'll have more than a locker combination to pick as a password. But first, I want you to put this on before you catch a cold. And I am returning this."

Shizuo handed him the switchblade, almost reverentially passing it from hand to hand.

"You kept it?"

"I tried to get rid of it. I really did but I couldn't bring myself to it. I took your words to heart, Izaya. The difference between the person who watched you fall to your death and the one standing there- is what almost drove me insane but also what gave me strength."

Izaya slipped into the familiar comfort of his jacket.

"For once I'm at a loss of words."

Shizuo wiped a few strands of black hair.

"What about you? Do you still want to die?"

Izaya placed a hand over his arm, a gesture that Shizuo could read with perfect clarity. Izaya swallowed.

"If you're here- and you are- if you're here for me- that is my answer."

Tears glimmered at the corners of Izaya's eyes. He took a deep breath and let them roll down his cheeks.

"Then you've found out, haven't you? That at times they do change their minds after jumping. And in your case it matters."

Izaya shrank into his jacket and leant on Shizuo, hiding his face against his shirt and quietly sobbing. Shizuo patted his hair and waited until this fragile bit of life that he encircled with his arms grew warmer and truer. Then he placed the tiny doll on top of Izaya's now unruly head.

"And by the way, Chibi Izaya is really tasteless and not funny."

Izaya laughed and wiped the wet trail of tears with his fists, it struck Shizuo as a childish response but somehow it made sense.

"There's not much to do in a graveyard. And you can download it-"

"On my cell phone? Already done that."

Shizuo opened his phone and almost chuckled at Izaya's surprise as he saw the pixeled figure tumbling down the screen.

"Shizu-chan, I think you like Chibi Izaya."

"I think it's more that I like you. So I must be out of my mind."

Izaya stared open eyed. A million things occurred to him. Many of which were witty, some of which were deep, some that were even both. But none did justice to the strange glow he felt. So what he ended up saying was:

"It's been very cold, hasn't it? But it's getting warmer now."

Shizuo cast a light kiss on his lips.

"Let's get out of here. You don't belong here and this is a horrible place to share a first kiss."

"You mean second, Shizu-chan."

They headed made their way along the dead and back to the teeming life of Tokyo and all it contained of danger, excitement, and hope.

"That didn't count. And if you keep that 'Shizu-chan' thing I'll call you 'Iza-chan' and see how you like that."

Izaya smiled.

"Fine by me. But anyone else who tries that I'll introduce to my faithful blade." Izaya paused. Then added, "Aye, in the end there are some things one cannot do without. And to me, you're one of them."

There was much more to be said but the silence that settled between them now was not without an echo. It reverberated with beginnings that though broken could be repaired and though interrupted could be resumed. Whatever invisible thread there might be between them, it followed as they crossed into crazy neon lights. And it weaved its intricate pattern until they were brought together like this: two shapes walking side by side down same path to follow wherever it led. After all, that was for them to find out.

**The End**


End file.
